


That Caring Feeling

by effing_gravity (Malteaser)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, The Power Of Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 00:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malteaser/pseuds/effing_gravity
Summary: Another one from the kink meme: "Aside from the Nonpocalypse, where everyone was a bit preoccupied, none of the angels have been around Aziraphale and Crowley together. I’d like Gabriel to come across them and be stunned by the immense love he senses rolling off of them."





	That Caring Feeling

It's roughly a year after the apocalypse, Earth-time, when Gabriel slips down for an afternoon on Savile Row. The world isn't ending any time soon, apparently, and the headaches from that aren't going away any time soon either. Maybe the one bright spot in all of this is that bespoke tailoring is still a thing, and he feels like after the year he's had, he's entitled to a new suit.   
  
Unfortunately, he's not the only one to have this idea.   
  
He notices the demon first, for all that he's definitely doing something to tamp down on the Evil in his aura. He's sprawled out outside on the changing rooms, looking down at his phone.   
  
"I can't see why I can't at least wear a white shirt," comes Aziraphale's voice from inside the changing room. Oh. Of course they were together.  
  
"Because it's a wedding, angel," the demon replies. "You can't go wearing white if you're not the bride, even I know that."  
  
Aziraphale's reply was an indistinct grumble.   
  
"Besides we agreed. I'll forgo black for dark grey if you forgo white for light grey," the demon continues.   
  
"Is Anathema even wearing white?" Aziraphale asks.   
  
"No, of course not," the demon says dismissively. "She's a modern woman. No white bridal dress, and no church-"  
  
"She's a pagan and her husband-to-be is Jewish, so I would presume that churches would be something of a nonstarter," Aziraphale says dryly.   
  
"And they're having it _outside_," the demon says gleefully.  
  
"The weather is sure to be nice, I suppose, given that it's July."  
  
"Oh the weather will be fine," the demon says. "If Adam decides it violates his normal boy rule to take care of it, you or I will. It's everything else that will be a spectacular mess."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"It's like you said: she's pagan and he's Jewish. _And_ she's American by way of Puerto Rico, and he's British. Do you know how many wedding traditions that is to merge? And how many people are going to be miffed that they picked this element over that one? And that's before we get into the personal baggage. She's a little bit psychic, and he makes phones explode just by looking at them. She's from a fabulously wealthy family, and he's working class. They've barely known one another for a year. Her family have known since before she was born that she was going to come over here and have sex with him on what may very well be the last day of the world, and his family don't know even half of that, and don't know what to do with the half they do know. It's going to be a blessed disaster, no matter what the weather is doing. I can't wait."   
  
"It almost sounds like you're waiting for them to fail," Aziraphale says, almost too quietly for Gabriel to make out.   
  
"What? No," the demon says, finally looking up from his phone. "Come on, you know me better than that. I'm just looking forward to tripping the first person who says something about the fact that he's taking her name into a cow patty."  
  
Aziraphale doesn't respond.   
  
The demon sighs and pockets his phone. "Come on, angel. Quit fussing with your cuffs and let's see what you look like, yeah?"  
  
After a moment, Aziraphale emerges. He looks very Aziraphale: fidgety and nervous and not at all like an angel should look. This becomes even more obvious when the demon approaches him, smiling.   
  
"Well, don't you look a treat," the demon says, and Aziraphale offers up a smile of his own in return. "There's just one thing missing, though." The demon pulls a strip of fabric from his pocket. "May I?"  
  
Aziraphale's smile widens. "Of course."  
  
He hold still while the demon ties the bow tie around his neck.  
  
"There," the demon says, smoothing it out. "Now you're perfect."  
  
Normally when Gabriel is on Earth, he shields himself from emotional interference. But every so often, something punches through.   
  
Like now. There's so much love coming off of the two of them that it staggers him.   
  
And then staggers him again, because once he realizes what he's feeling, he has to lower his barriers to check- and yes. Half of that love- that incredibly powerful, downright ancient love- is coming from the demon Crowley.  
  
Then both Aziraphale and Crowley turns as one to stare at him, which is when he realizes that his lowered barriers means that they can perceive him.   
  
Aziraphale finds his voice first. "What are you doing here, Gabriel?"  
  
"Leaving," Gabriel decides. "I'm... leaving."  
  
He hurries away. Crowley shouts something after him, but he's too caught up in his own thoughts to pay any attention.   
  
A demon is in love, and it's not new. A demon has been in love, for centuries, if not longer. A demon loves, and is loved back, and the force of it nearly knocked him off his feet.   
  
He returns to Heaven, where love is all-encompassing and total. It's the sort of love that demands perfection, because otherwise how else could you be worthy of it. It's not the kind of love that ties your tie and declares you perfect.   
  
For a moment, Gabriel can understand why Aziraphale would give up Heaven so easily. Then he buries that understanding deep, and goes on with his day.


End file.
